


Pretty Boy

by righteousbros



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bullying, M/M, Morning Sex, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-12-31 19:03:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1035293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/righteousbros/pseuds/righteousbros
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of snippets of Castiel's relationship with Dean over the years</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretty Boy

~1980~

“What a pretty little thing you are, sweetie! I bet you’ll have to beat the boys off with a stick.”

“He’s a boy”. John’s voice is a warning growl. He’s shooting the older woman leaning over their baby carriage a look that Castiel has seen him use several times before. Usually on bill collectors and his father-in-law.

“John! Nevermind him, ma’am. It’s a common mistake at this age. And thank you for the compliment just the same.” Mary smiles brightly while the woman hurries away across the park. The glare that she gives her husband however could inspire frostbite.

Castiel never ceases in his admiration of this tiny little golden-haired woman and her ability to make her gruff ex-Marine husband flinch.

“What the heck is the matter with you? She was just trying to be nice.”

“You heard what she said. She called our son _pretty_ ”.

Castiel doesn’t quite understand why a descriptor that he’s come to understand as a complimentary term seems to irk John so much. Perhaps it’s usage in this context is some sort of slang term within the local Kansas dialect of American English that he’s not yet encountered.

“That’s no reason to scare her to death.” Mary leans down to tickle her son’s belly. The baby gurgles and squeals happily.

Castiel can see light of his infant soul glow brightly in response to her touch. It moves something in him that he doesn’t fully understand.

“Who’s my handsome boy? Who’s my little angel?” Mary coos.

Castiel doesn’t bother correcting her. She can’t see him or hear him anyway. Dean is an aesthetically pleasing child, but he is no angel.

“I didn’t really scare her. Did I?” John frowns. He seems to find other humans perplexing. Castiel can relate.

Mary smiles at him fondly. She winds her arms around his waist and kisses his chin. Her temper comes on lightening fast at times, but it’s nothing compared to her capacity for forgiveness. Especially where John is concerned.

“Let’s just hope that Dean grows up to be big and strong like his daddy, and gets his social skills from his mommy, hmm?”.

~1990~

“Come on, pretty boy. Let’s see how pretty you are after I rearrange your face!”

The older boys circle around Dean, holding back the growing crowd of kids as they taunt their current victim. They shove and kick at him, penning him in.

Castiel’s feathers ruffle angrily. He’s eager to protect his young charge, but he knows that he can’t intervene. Dean needs to fight his own battles. It’s just that his life seems to be an unending series of battles ever since That Night. Since the fire.

“Come on! Hit me, you little pansy. You look like fucking girl you know that? I bet you throw a punch like one too.” The biggest and ugliest of them all holds his arms wide, inviting Dean to hit him.

It’s the fourth school he’s been in that year. The players change but the game remains the same. The alpha males of the popular crowd take notice of Dean as the new kid. He’s quiet and keeps mostly to himself. If that isn’t enough to mark him as a potential target, his looks always do. Too long eyelashes. Too full lips. Too delicate features for an average boy really.

But perhaps Father did not intend for Dean to be average.

Maybe that’s why He allowed Mary to die in the way she did. And why He allows John to live on through his relentless campaign of vengeance, dragging his young sons along for the ride.

Castiel often has to remind himself of God’s plan when he watches little Dean tuck his baby brother in by himself at night. Watches him clean up after one of John’s post-hunt benders.

“Come on! Come at me! Unless you’re chicken, Winchester?”

Dean squares his thin shoulders and rushes full speed at the larger boy like a linebacker. Just like John has taught him. The bully never knew what hit him.

~2000~

“Get on your knees. I wanna fuck that pretty cocksucking mouth of yours.”

Obediently, Dean sinks to his knees and begins opening the trucker’s jeans. The bluish light of the bar’s neon sign is the only thing illuminating the alleyway and it makes his pale skin appear otherworldly.

Castiel looks away. It’s not like he hadn’t seen Dean engage in sexual congress before. That is his mission after all; watch over Dean Winchester. And the way the young man conducts himself – well can’t really be avoided. But this latest development troubles him greatly.

“Yeah. Take my cock you fucking whore.”

Great. This one’s a talker. He doesn’t have to look to know that Dean is rolling his eyes.

“Suck it, pretty boy. Yeah, just like that”.

He truly hates this. He can tell that Dean does too. At least the trucker seems to be enjoying himself.

Castiel can’t help but think about Mary. He doesn’t know if her soul is in heaven but he hopes that it is. Someplace warm and bright, like her smile. Someplace where she can’t see what Dean has to do in order to put food on the table and buy Sam new clothes before he grows out of the old ones.

“Yeah. Take that dick. Mmm, yeah. I knew when I saw that pretty mouth that you’d be a goddamn champ at this.”

He’ so angry. Blindingly angry. At John for neglecting his children. At the trucker for taking advantage of a young man’s desperation. At Dean for letting himself believe this is all he’s good enough for. At himself for being unable to intercede.

“Oh fuck! Fuck!”

Dean wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and stands, brushing the dirt off of his jeans. Dispassionately he takes the truckers money and walks off towards where he parked the impala without a backward glance.

Castiel watches him go.

Fists shoved in his pockets and shoulders hunched under his leather jacket, the light of Dean’s soul shines slightly dimmer.

~2010~

“What are you crazy?” Dean yells. The boom of his voice echoes off of the damp pavement of a different alleyway in a different city. He’s on his knees again but this time its Castiel who’s put him there.

“I rebelled for this?! So you could surrender to them?!” Castiel hasn’t felt this kind of fury in ages. Literally.

After everything he’s sacrificed. Everything he’s gambled on this human. His purpose, his faith, his grace, and his own life. For what? To defy his brothers and the destiny set forth by their Father for the love of his broken shell of a man who is incapable of loving him back.

He never thought Dean would just give up and submit like this. Dean Winchester: The Unstoppable Force of Nature. What a terrible joke. He’s livid at Dean and at himself for putting all of his devotion into such a weak creature.

He can’t even look Dean in the eyes he’s so disgusted. The perfection of his face feels like a lie when Castiel knows full well how shattered he is inside. In his fury, he gives in to the immediate urge to destroy that pretty façade.

Castiel punches Dean with the force to split flesh from bone. It doesn’t even come close to the full measure of his power but it’s enough to cause the kind of physical pain that mirrors what he feels down to the core of his grace.

“Cas! Please!” Dean is bloody and disoriented. He tries weakly to defend himself but he’s no match for an irate angel.

“I gave everything for you! And this is what you give to me.” Again and again he strikes Dean but still it’s not enough. What happens when a being that is meant to know nothing but pure love and unflinching loyalty experiences heartbreak and betrayal?

He is utterly undone.

“Do it. Just do it!” Dean pleads. It comes out garbled and distorted through a mouthful of blood and swollen broken flesh. The pain in his voice is staggering.

Castiel knows what he wants. He wants to die right there in the alley and he believes it’s what he deserves.

By virtue of his impossible nature and the irresistible quality of his very soul he has saddled Castiel with a love so profound that he was willing to kill his own brothers for it. And now Dean wants to rip it all apart. And yet still, Castiel cannot do it.

Instead he picks Dean up and flys him back to Sam.

When they go to confront Zachariah, he will again risk his life for a foolish human plan. For Dean. Because he doesn’t know how to love in half-measures.

~2020~

Sunlight shining through the curtains plays over the architecture of Dean’s face. Castiel can see where the little crinkles around his eyes have deepened over the years and the grey hairs at his temples are starting to multiply. He’s still far too pretty for his own good but his body is nonetheless aging. The mere fact that he’s alive for it to happen is a daily miracle.

It’s early yet. They won’t be expected at Sam’s until that afternoon. Plenty of time to linger in the sanctuary of their bed. Castiel doesn’t know what his personal heaven will eventually look like now that he’s mortal, but he hopes that when he dies he gets to spend eternity inside a Sunday morning with Dean just like this.

Castiel traces the pout of his lips delicately with his index finger. Dean shifts and grumbles in his sleep but he doesn’t open his eyes.

It’s a game they play. Castiel gets to watch Dean like this, like he always has, but only when Dean’s asleep. Dean pretends to be asleep so that he can feel the adoration of Cas’s eyes on him without having to admit how much he likes it.

It’s a marvel considering all that they’ve been through, that they’ve landed here. Settled and together. Hunting – because it’s as much a part of Dean as the bow of his legs and the devilish glint of his green eyes – but partners as they muddle through this life together in every sense of the word.

Castiel leans forward on his pillow and presses a kiss to Dean’s lips. “Come on, wake up Sleeping Beauty”

Dean scrunches his face up in a petulant scowl, shutting his eyes even tighter. He stretches his arms languidly above his head and then lightning fast he captures Castiel’s waist and tugs him tight to his body. Castiel laughs as Dean peppers his neck with kisses.

Dean’s eyes suddenly fly open. “What the hell did you call me?” His voice is still gravelly with sleep and it makes Castiel smile.

“Nothing”.

“Don’t get smart with me, Angel” Dean warns jokingly. His hands drift down to Cas’s ass, cupping and squeezing him possessively. He still likes to call Cas ‘Angel’ even though they both know it’s only an endearment now and not fact.

“What do you purpose to do about it?”. Cas knows exactly what he’s doing by egging Dean on. He hasn’t been human for long in the grand scheme of his existence, but it didn’t take him long to figure out what makes Dean tick in this regard, just as he has in every other facet of all the things that make him who he is.

Dean grins rakishly and lets his hands wander further. He circles a finger around Cas’s hole, still slightly wet with lube and well fucked from the night before.

Cas arches back into the touch wantonly.

“This what you want?” Dean growls. He nips at the curve of Cas’s shoulder as he slips two fingers inside.

“Yes, Dean” Cas breathes against the soft dark blonde of his hair. He’ll never get over the exquisite sensations of this human body that’s now wholly his. It’s overwhelming.

Dean pauses long enough to slick his fingers a little more from the bottle of lube they keep on the nightstand. When he curls himself around Cas again, this time he works three fingers into his hole, twisting and stretching them more to tease than anything else because Cas is already plenty ready for him.

“Dean, now”. Cas whines. He’s hot all over and aching for Dean to fill him up.

“Ok, ok. Bossy”. Dean rolls him until Cas’s back is spooned against his chest.

Castiel pulls the knee of his top leg up to his waist, giving Dean the access he needs. When Dean’s cock glides inside him with no resistance, he moans and clutches the pillow under his head.

Long slow thrusts. Open-mouthed kisses at the nape of his neck. Gentle strokes of a calloused hand up and down the length of his side. Dean makes love to him in their bed like he has all the time in the world because now he actually does. Nothing’s chasing them, no one’s plotting a heavenly coup, there’s no apocalypse on the horizon. It’s just them, wrapped in each other’s arms.

When the pleasure rises and peaks and threatens to carry him away in its wake, Cas just lets go, trusting Dean to be right there to ride it out along with him.

Afterwards they doze, tangled together. Sated and safe at last.


End file.
